


No Jolts, No Surprises (No Crisis Arises)

by frozenCinders



Category: OFF (Game)
Genre: M/M, [batter voice] what is "love". get out of my zone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:41:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25898359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frozenCinders/pseuds/frozenCinders
Summary: "There's something wrong with me," the Batter tells him one day, out of the blue. "I think I'm possessed."
Relationships: The Batter/Zacharie
Comments: 6
Kudos: 116





	No Jolts, No Surprises (No Crisis Arises)

The supposition doesn't surprise Zacharie as much as it could have. The Batter has been acting strange lately, after all-- almost unwell. During their little chats, he occasionally asks Zacharie vague little questions pertaining to how to relax, how to sleep better. How to meditate. That one was fun to act out with him, sitting there and instructing the Batter not to attempt to stop thinking, but to remove himself from his thoughts and watch passively as they flow by.

It didn't work, of course. The Batter eventually gave up, grumbling his appreciation for the effort as he left.

Earlier today, in fact, Zacharie had sold a pack of plastic bottles to him.

"Maybe dehydration," he'd said to himself across the room before bringing the case to the counter.

It's been days and days of this strange behavior, and the Batter seems to be running out of ideas.

"Deep breaths, amigo," Zacharie suggests. "What makes you think it's possession?"

The Batter pauses just to breathe, attempting to calm himself down. On the outside, he really doesn't appear too disturbed, but Zacharie has always known of the turbulence inside the Batter's head.

"It's not getting better, or even worse. I don't know what's happening. My heart beats too fast, it gets hard to catch my breath... I don't really sleep anymore."

"That isn't good. I'm no doctor, but perhaps I should begin stocking proper medicine?"

"It's... I don't know. It's not really that I can't sleep. It's the dreams that keep me awake."

He says the last part quietly, like he's afraid someone will hear.

"Dreams of what sort? Nightmares, yes?"

"Dreams of..." He pauses, taking a moment to find his words. "Losing control. Of doing things that I... shouldn't. Like something else is in control of me."

"... Batter, you do remember your dear Player, yes?" Zacharie carefully reminds him.

"Not like that. Their control isn't so... minute. It's more like suggestion. Or, a guide. Like a light on the path they want me to take. But they could never control my speech. No more than my limbs."

"Ah... so you dream of saying things you don't mean, then?" Zacharie guesses. "Or perhaps, things you do mean but don't wish to reveal?"

"Things that I shouldn't be saying. Things that I shouldn't be doing," he answers.

He turns away now.

"I shouldn't be here," he says.

"Stay a while, please," Zacharie asks of him. "I'm starting to worry about you."

"It's in my head. It's corrupting me."

"Friend, please be more specific."

"It's..." He sighs and faces Zacharie. "It's twisting your words into things you don't mean. Every time you open your mouth, I think you're..."

Zacharie takes some silent guesses. Does he crave violence? To force Zacharie to shut up by any means necessary? Or does he think Zacharie's friendly demeanor is a bold-faced lie, that his words hide a secret venom for the Batter?

"... Propositioning me," he finishes, completely unexpected.

"... Say again?"

"No."

It's hard not to chuckle at that, but Zacharie holds his tongue.

"Elaborate, please? I'm not sure what you mean here."

"No. Can I leave?"

"If you won't clarify, at least give me an example of one of your dreams. You have my word that I will think no less of you. I stake all my honor and credibility on this promise."

That seems to reach the Batter, and he moves a little closer to Zacharie. He visibly forces himself to stop, stuttering to a halt almost ten feet away from the counter. In a show of trust, or something like it, Zacharie steps out from behind the counter and shortens the distance.

"No, this isn't good," the Batter says, backing up. "I'll tell you, but you have to get further away from me."

"If you're scared of hurting me, place your bat against the wall. I promise I'm not so fragile that you would be able to kill me barehanded. Not before coming back to your senses, at least."

His fingers clench around the handle and then he drops it unceremoniously.

"That works," Zacharie says. "Now, the dream?"

"... I'm not so good with words. I'm trying to figure out how to describe it."

"Why not act it out? Slowly and gingerly, so that no harm could befall either of us. If I wish to stop you, I will be more than capable."

The Batter tenses up at the suggestion. He swallows, and then nods. The distance between them shrinks further, and the Batter's hands raise, slow as can be, until they rest just barely on Zacharie's shoulders. They inch a little closer to his neck, hesitant like the Batter is reluctant to admit he's thought of strangling him.

"I'm... going to lift your mask a little," he says. "I'm not trying to take it off."

"Do me one small favor, and I will allow it. Close your eyes, and keep them closed."

The Batter easily obeys. It's only fair that he does, considering that the way Zacharie's mask tilts up into his eyes now makes it impossible to see out of it. He gets the smallest strip of light peeking in from the bottom, where his mouth and the barest hint of the tip of his nose now lie exposed.

He doesn't have to be able to see to assume that the Batter is making a rare facial expression, a hesitant furrowing of the brow as his hands struggle with conflicting commands to move and stop, move and stop, move and stop.

His movements keep to Zacharie's words-- slow and ginger. It is with the gentlest, creeping touch that the Batter lets his hands come to a rest not around Zacharie's throat, but on each side of his face, and it's then that Zacharie understands what has him so troubled. He can't see, but he knows what's coming, and he stands perfectly still to allow it.

Only, no matter how long he waits, the Batter can't seem to go through with it. His fingers twitch nervously against Zacharie's cheeks and he can hear his breathing getting quicker with panic, no matter how hard he tries to keep it quiet.

"You've already communicated the point," Zacharie informs him. "I'm waiting not out of curiosity."

"Then what..?"

"... No, maybe that isn't accurate. It _is_ a curiosity. Wouldn't you like to know how it feels outside of your dreams?"

"It doesn't feel good in my dreams. You aren't so complacent in them."

Ah, that's the issue. Zacharie is finally getting the bigger picture.

"Then let me show you something more than complacency, Batter. I'd like it if you would kiss me."

The meeting is a tender, careful thing. Zacharie can't comprehend what the Batter thought was so evil, so corrupt about this. He was so reluctant to do it in the first place, but now the Batter struggles to pull away. Zacharie encourages him with a hand on each arm, pushing forward with another kiss.

When the two finally silently agree to fill their lungs, the Batter steps away at the same time Zacharie pulls his mask back down. The Batter's eyes are still closed.

"You can open them," Zacharie says.

He does, slowly. His surroundings hold no carnage and do not collapse like a dreamscape. He takes a deep breath, his first good breath in well over a week. And then he picks up his bat and adjusts his cap.

"Sorry about that," he mumbles.

"For overthinking, yes? I would be devastated if you were sorry about the kiss."

The Batter considers this for a moment.

"For overthinking," he decides.

As it turns out, the only thing he'd been possessed by was Cupid's arrow.


End file.
